


Gronder

by korereapers



Series: FE3H fic series [12]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Violence, Emetophobia, Gen, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), verdant wind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korereapers/pseuds/korereapers
Summary: In reality, Gronder had no survivors.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Gilbert Pronislav, Very slight dimidue
Series: FE3H fic series [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773310
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Gronder

**Author's Note:**

> Gilbert leaves his Kingdom, and he has to face the consequences. Aka let's make Gilbert feel even more guilty, the fanfic.
> 
> This is extremely self indulgent. You have been warned.

It isn’t very difficult to find him, even among the commotion.

Gronder is big, and Gilbert’s eyes may not be what they used to be, but it’s still impossible to miss him. A big man, unnaturally inert, his rage pacified for the first time in who knows how long. Spears and arrows impaling him from literally everywhere.

Even if he still has a pulse, there is no way to help him like this. Ending his suffering would be a very bitter kind of mercy. He wonders how much time he has been agonizing, and not just in the physical way.

Gilbert bites back some tears. He cannot cry. Not now.

Dimitri is heavy. He is mostly skin and bones by now, but he is still big, and he is still a deadweight.

Gilbert looks at his face, and the sight is too much for him. Way too much for him. He suppresses the urge to vomit, but he still takes a moment to caress the mangled face. The same kind of gesture Lambert would have had with Dimitri, all of those years ago.

Dimitri’s only eye is half opened, and yet glassy, devoid of life. His blond eyelashes are stained with the blood that pours from his forehead, almost dry. The blood under his nose and mouth is pretty recent, though.

The prince died while vomiting his own blood, until he couldn’t take it anymore. Until exhaustion and blood loss killed his drive, his anger, his need for justice. Gilbert closes his eyes, and then allows himself to cry, even if only for a moment.

He loved this man, this boy, as if he were his own child.

“Let’s get you out of here.” he murmurs, his voice shaking. “You’re not alone. I’m not leaving you. Not this time.”

Dimitri’s eyepatch is nowhere to be seen, but the rests of blood and tears on his face are way worse to look at than an old wound that scarred a long time ago.

He had promised Lambert, back in the day. To take care of his child, to take care of the Kingdom. Gilbert had loved his king, his prince, his kingdom.

Unable to face his family, what has he left to love?

He doesn’t have enough time to pity himself, though. Dedue is there, his face pale as a ghost. Gilbert recognizes every single emotion that crosses his expression, from disbelief, to sadness, to anger. Absolute desperation.

Gilbert understands. Been there, done that. It feels absolutely miserable.

He doesn’t deserve to see Dimitri like this, Gilbert thinks. He deserves a nice memory, a grief that can heal, something sweet to hold onto. Still, Dedue ignores him as he approaches, and Gilbert cannot say a thing as Dedue’s hand caresses the prince’s face, shaking. He takes it between his hands, pressing their foreheads together. As if Gilbert wasn’t there.

He feels like an intruder, full of bitterness in front of such a tender moment.

“You can rest now. I will take care of it.”

Dedue looks at him then, and Gilbert’s blood runs cold. Dedue has never been too expressive, but he has never looked so… dead. Expressionless. Tired.

“We will give him a proper burial.”

It’s the least he can say to bring the boy some comfort.

Dedue nods, his face stained with Dimitri’s blood. None of them says nothing about the matter. Nothing remains, for him, for them, except for their own regrets.

**Author's Note:**

> I may edit this to make it more... complex, but I wanted to publish the general idea. What am I, if not absoultely self indulgent.


End file.
